


This Has A Hot, Sweet Taste

by lookingfortherainbow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, Body Worship, Bottom Zayn Malik, Canon Compliant, Come Eating, Established Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Lazy Sex, Liam Payne Loves Zayn Malik, M/M, Making Love, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Smut, Top Liam, because Ass, sex while high, this is just mushy morning sex, wake and bake, with a lot of filthy rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/lookingfortherainbow
Summary: A sweet, soft sound escapes his mouth along with a messy cloud of smoke, and Liam would smile at the fact he’s managed to distract Zayn from playing with how he exhales his smoke if it weren’t for how his lips are suctioned around his pulsing hole.Or, Zayn wakes and bakes, and Liam rims him within an inch of his life.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	This Has A Hot, Sweet Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Buzzcut Season by Lorde.  
> Enjoy!

To Liam, there are a lot of states that he loves Zayn in. 

He loves him when he’s in a state of disarray, with spray paint cans and acrylic paint tubes and brushes and canvases scattered around him. He loves him when he’s in a state of passion while he’s singing his heart out or writing up page after page of inspiring lyrics in their in-home studio. He loves him when he’s in a state of giddiness, eyes lighting up and smile curving the corners of his lips so perfectly as he talks with Liam about the different superheroes they both have adored since childhood. He loves him when he’s in a state of curiosity, traipsing through their yard and taking polaroid photos of all the little insects and flowers he finds interesting, their animals following him like sheep. He loves him when he’s in a somber state, lips slack and eyes wide as he stares at the ceiling and ponders his troubles and what words he’ll use to later explain to Liam, while in a better mood, what made him feel so beaten down and deflated. 

When he’s in this state, though, Liam feels like he can finally see how much more in love he’s fallen, with each month that passes, each year. It’s not that he favors him like this, because he loves him all the time, in every way, from one feeling to the next, equally. But this allows Liam to gaze at him in a way the other states of mind Zayn is in, don’t. 

“Smell that?”

“Mm, yeah, a little too well,” Liam chuckles, pushing the grinder that holds Zayn’s weed away from where Zayn’s holding it by his nose. 

“This is the good shit. The good, good shit,” Zayn murmurs, giggling when Liam pinches one of his bare nipples. 

Lifting his head enough from where it’s been resting on Zayn’s naked chest, Liam presses a soft kiss to the same nipple. “No,  _ this _ is the good shit.”

Chuckling, Zayn pushes his fingers through Liam’s messy locks, digs his fingernails into his scalp. It leaves Liam a shivering mess, and he kisses the warm skin around his nipple a few more times before replacing his head on Zayn. Growing his hair out was one of the best decisions he’s made, mostly because Zayn’s fingers are drawn to it like a magnet. Where Zayn used to be protective of Liam's head of curls, years and years before, he’s downright obsessive over it now. Head massages have become a regular occurrence while they lay awake in bed, curled up in each other, hidden from the world. 

From this angle, he can admire the jut of Zayn’s jaw, the cut of his cheekbone, the shadow of stubble that’s growing darker on his cheeks with each day that passes that he doesn’t shave. He lifts his hand to caress there, letting the coarse hair poke the pads of his fingertips. 

“Need to shave today,” Zayn murmurs, eyes down, focusing on rolling his blunt. 

“No, that’s not on the agenda,” Liam whispers, entirely too transfixed by the way Zayn’s cheeks sink in as he lights up and takes a drag from his blunt. 

He looks like poetry when he blows the smoke out, eyes falling shut, sleepily. 

“Mm, what  _ is _ on the agenda, then?” Zayn says, eyes still closed. 

Liam notices the small smile on his lips. Smirk, more like. He lets his fingertips trail down his tattooed neck, down the toned end of his shoulder, across his chest, his nipples. When he reaches his belly he flattens his palms to his stomach, rubbing lazily across the relaxed muscles there, dipping under the sheet they’re under. 

“Lots of laying around, sleeping. . .”

“I like the sound of that.”

“. . .Lots of kissing. . .”

Liam drives his point home, by pulling his husband down into a lazy kiss, the taste of cannabis a familiar one that he licks away from Zayn’s lips and tongue. His own toes curl against Zayn’s shifting calves under their sheet, becoming increasingly more aroused by the way that Zayn is always so pliant in his hands, like clay in a sculptor’s palms.

“Mm, that, too,” he murmurs when Liam lets him go. 

“. . .Lots of  _ love-making.” _

“Mm,  _ love _ the sound of  _ that.” _

Liam’s propping himself up on his elbow to start a trail of kisses on Zayn’s chest, taking time to lave his tongue over the nipple he kissed before. He can hear Zayn take another drag, release the smoke. Liam gets high off of having the taste of Zayn’s skin in his mouth the way Zayn gets high off of weed. Slowly, he grazes his teeth over his nipple, gets a slow, long breath to fan from Zayn’s lips over his forehead that borders on making a sound. 

His locks are being brushed away from his face, and Liam presses his smile into Zayn’s stomach, purses his lips to press a sweet kiss there. 

“God, your hair, Li,” Zayn rasps. “Turns me on so much.” 

A deep chuckle is muffled by how Liam is rubbing his own full beard into his husband’s shivering stomach. Zayn’s hips jerk up a little in reply, and Liam looks up at him. He’s the one smirking now. Taking in how Zayn’s eyes have drooped considerably more than before, how his full bottom lip is shiny with spit and caught between his teeth, Liam loses his breath a little. He looks completely enamored and utterly like royalty, leaning back against a throne of fluffy, golden-colored pillows, blunt forgotten in the hand that’s now frozen in an upright position. His pastel-blue hair is still sticking up at odd angles from two hours before, when Liam had fucked into his mouth and from the nap they both took after such rigorous activity so early in the morning. 

It’s only eight now, but Liam’s blood is hot in his veins, quick to flow south, even as his hands move at a sluggish pace to push the sheets down to reveal what his mouth is watering for. 

He thumbs the glorious ridge of hip bones that frame the long uncut cock cradled between them, humming before he realizes he’s making the sound at the sight of precome already oozing from the tip. 

“‘S it my turn now?” Zayn asks, sweetly.

Liam wonders if he’d been waiting impatiently on the inside to ask that question, given that Liam used Zayn’s mouth to get off earlier, but left Zayn’s own weeping dick untouched. He’s so polite, and it pulls low in his gut, the contrast of such sweetness as he’s holding a lit blunt in between his graceful fingers. 

In lieu of answering he shifts further down the bed, sinking himself to the mattress between Zayn’s spread legs, and licking a hot stripe from one hipbone all the way up his full, flushed length. He holds him gently in his hand, looks up at Zayn as he swipes quick and playful over where he’s exposed his wet head, foreskin pulled back. 

“Yeah, think you’ve earned it,” Liam says. 

“Oh, shit,” Zayn whispers, takes a drag from his blunt like he’s just remembered he was smoking. 

His eyes are lazy as he watches Liam, but the way his body is shifting up against the scrape of where Liam is rubbing his beard on the shaved skin around the base of his cock lets Liam know that the quick pulls from his blunt have more to do with maintaining some semblance of restraint and less to do with the need to be even more high. 

A confused sound falls from Zayn’s lips when Liam shifts further back. It’s followed by a sharp intake of breath when Liam uses his strong grip on the meat of Zayn’s upper thighs to push his legs back. He can just see Zayn’s slack-jawed expression from where he’s pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, watches how Zayn extends his neck and slumps further into the mattress when Liam flattens his tongue and licks slow in-between them. It’s like he’s giving himself up to the strong sensations flooding his body, reveling in them, greedy for it. 

A sweet, soft sound escapes his mouth along with a messy cloud of smoke, and Liam would smile at the fact he’s managed to distract Zayn from playing with how he exhales his smoke if it weren’t for how his lips are suctioned around his pulsing hole. Zayn’s so dark here, a secret color of skin kept hidden away only for Liam to marvel at. So, he does. Placing a finger that he wets with saliva right under his balls, he drags it down, down, down, breath blowing cold onto the hot area of his winking, shaven hole. He circles the sacred place with a delicate touch, places a kiss there that makes Zayn try to push up into his mouth. Liam ignores him, too enraptured in worshipping what the universe has blessed him with. 

Of all the ways Liam has gotten to merge with Zayn’s body, this is the one that makes him feel closest to him. His cock is leaking steadily onto the bed sheets below him, but all he’s focused on is how Zayn is unbleached here, how only a razor has taken away the natural hair so Liam can better stare at the beauty that lies beneath it. He readjusts his grip on Zayn’s asscheeks, palms pressing a little harder into his skin, spreads them further apart just to see how the movement makes Zayn’s hole open and try to squeeze fully shut again. He thinks of the many times he’s done exactly this and watched how his own come has oozed out, white against a beautiful deep, rich brown. He thinks of how this private place opens only to Liam’s fingers, Liam’s tongue, lips, hard, throbbing member. He thinks of the night he bound Zayn’s wrists to their intricately designed headboard and fucked him so many times, Zayn’s eyes were streaming fat tears of pleasure, pain, desperation and his hole was weeping Liam’s seed of passion, possession, domination. That night Liam spread his ass and watched how Zayn’s body kept itself open for the exact shape and girth of Liam’s chafed and swollen prick. At the end of it all, he’d eaten him out, feeding Zayn gobs of come that he sucked from his ass, smearing some of it onto his red, tear-stained face. 

They fuck as hard as they love. 

It isn’t until Zayn is pulling painfully on Liam’s wild locks that Liam realizes he’s laving his tongue over his smooth crack like he’s possessed, tongue fat and heavy and coated in the taste of Zayn’s own salt and musk, washing the area with so much spit he can hear when his tongue flattens for more against his skin each time, even over the sound of his rumbling moans. His body is always starving for this taste. 

At the sound of his name being whispered, he looks up to see Zayn’s eyes burning into him, eyebrows drawn up in a look of pleading. The blunt is forgotten on the ashtray that sits on the nightstand. In answer, he strokes his tongue up over his crack, up over his tightening balls, his sobbing and throbbing length, watches in fascination as Zayn’s eyelashes flutter over his cheeks like butterfly wings, his palms feeling and caressing Liam’s forehead, beard, unruly hair. Because their bodies respond to each other in an unspoken language, Liam’s palms follow Zayn’s overwhelmed movements on his face, running all over his thighs, caressing the outside of his hips that he can reach. All the while he returns his mouth to the temple in which it worships, points his tongue expertly and presses firm into the softened muscle that opens for him like it’s been waiting since this morning. Liam’s sure it probably has. 

Before his own eyes close in ecstasy, he gets a glimpse of Zayn’s mouth falling further open, eyes rolling back into his head. Like an addict getting high after a terrible period of sobriety, Liam presses further in, swirls his tongue, feral in his need to bury into the molten heat and coat his muscle in the unique, dirty-clean taste of the inside of Zayn’s body. Above him, Zayn is babbling softly in Urdu, his words sounding like a prayer, and Liam can’t stop the low groans that fall into his opened up body, knowing the vibrations must be driving him wild. He’s starting to do that little swiveling of his hips, slower than usual like his brain can’t quite decipher where pleasure is coming from, like his bloodstream has been injected with a cocktail of drugs and everything feels too good to directly search out where the source is coming from. 

Just to make his body goosebump all over, Liam scratches his nails down the underside of Zayn’s steepled legs, feels his toes curl against where Liam’s shoulder muscles bulge from how he’s pulling at his asscheeks. Zayn feels wet inside, and Liam can’t tell if it’s just how his natural state is or if it’s from the saliva that Liam’s mouth has been dripping into him, but he closes his lips around the throbbing outer walls of Zayn’s hole and sucks like he’s trying to get the wetness out, like he’s trying to get a drink of the flavor that coats Zayn’s soft, inner walls. 

When Zayn lets out a shattered sound, something that makes Liam’s hips rut into the bed involuntarily, he looks up to see how his lover’s head has tilted back into the pillows, chin a regal point in the air, a wolf howling silently in pleasure. He’s trembling all around Liam as he comes, his limbs stretching out into the sensations like it’s making a slow break from some invisible restraints, fingers getting caught in Liam’s locks and pulling, releasing, pulling, releasing. 

In a valiant effort, Liam is raising himself up, wrapping his fingers around Zayn’s cock that’s still oozing out come like he hasn’t orgasmed in weeks, thick fat gobs of it that Liam’s going to swallow later like he hasn’t had a drop of Zayn’s seed on his tongue in weeks. He’s soft with his ministrations to Zayn’s dick, but he’s stripping himself off fast and hard, breath punching out of his gut in short, guttural grunts as his own orgasm takes him by surprise. Zayn’s eyes open, and he pulls Liam into a kiss so sloppy it’s only made of saliva and sounds. Liam’s come is wetting the space between where his blunt head is pressing against Zayn’s hole, and he falls into Zayn’s body completely, too overcome by how good it all feels, how he can still taste Zayn in his mouth. 

Circling his arms around Zayn’s delicate frame, he grinds himself against Zayn, making sure his come is smearing all over where his mouth just was. 

“Can you do that again?” Zayn’s asking moments later as Liam feeds himself Zayn’s come that’s made a glistening pool on his stomach. 

He presses a kiss to Zayn’s softening cock. 

“What, make you come like a stream?”

“No, I mean,” Zayn takes a moment to collect his thoughts, brain lazy and recovering from all the ways it’s just been stimulated, “yes, but want  _ you _ to come again, mostly. Inside me, this time?”

Liam’s licking all over his length, smiling at how Zayn whimpers but doesn’t push him away. 

“You want me to eat it out of you, too?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says like Liam’s already doing it. 

Jesus, he loves this man. 

“Only if you can manage to keep smoking that blunt of yours.”

With a rebellious little tilt to his head, Zayn smirks, taking a pull from his forgotten, burnt down blunt, and pulling Liam up to shotgun. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! :) Comments, kudos, etc, are always extremely appreciated, even on a piece of smut haha! Follow me on [tumblr](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


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